Sanctuary
by XanderB
Summary: Duo creates a world for himself and the other pilots to live in peace. Just a short descriptive piece on the ways Duo helps to give himself and his comrades a little freedom from the war.


Sanctuary

Warnings: None

Pairings: 1+2, 3+4 somewhat implied...

Author's Note: Just a little exerp from Duo's mind that I came up with, very descriptive and unique.

(Duo)

I stood back and admired my work on the canvas, the colours blending and meshing together, forming a bloody inferno of reds, yellows and oranges that melted into ashy grays and sickly browns, charred remnants of old buildings and ruined lives splashed across a brilliant white canvas. I smiled to myself wondering when I'd become so fond of art. There was no place for this type of hobby in war, but yet I couldn't help myself. I'd squirreled away paints and brushes, concealing canvas and finished works in the attic of the safe house, refusing to allow my comrades into my peace, my requiem of the war. They wouldn't understand, I was sure. Well maybe Quatre might, but the others would see it as a waste of time, time I could and should be spending training and preparing for missions, but I just couldn't stop.

There was something so invigorating about this tiny, insignificant span of time when I was alone to express myself on the canvases filled with paint and parchment dirtied with charcoal and granite, some even smudged with colour. I laid in the middle of the room, my eyes wandering from piece to piece, each having it's place, it's home. The pictures were tacked all over the walls, slowly crawling upwards to the peak of the wooden ceiling, hundreds nearly. I'd never counted. Some canvases hung too, small ones, the larger leaning against the walls and worn, decrepit furniture, looming over their maker.

I let my head rest, pillowed against the crook of my arms and dozed. I didn't need the others here. They already were in a sense, pictures of each of them hanging from the dusty walls, Wufei meditating, Trowa performing in the circus he used as a cover, Quatre fallen asleep reading, and Heero fixing wing, working on his laptop and sleeping like the child he really was. They were all there above and around me. So were many other people and scenes, memories from my mind; Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, Solo, the Maxwell Church, my gang, Relena, Zechs Marquise, even Lady Une and Treize Kushrenada himself hung their faces from my sanctuary walls. Some pictures were insignificant, without purpose or meaning while others spoke volumes. I let them speak for me in my silence. It seemed the only time I was silent was when I was in my solitude.

Suddenly, my silence was broken, the moment of serenity shattered as Wufei burst through the falsely fabricated gates I'd placed around my escape. His breath caught and he forgot what he had been angry about as he spun slowly to take in each of my masterpieces. I waited. I expected him to scream. I expected him to reprimand me for my foolishness. But I never expected what occurred. Wufei very slowly came to lay beside me, taking a pose identical to mine as we gazed upon the stars which my own hands had created. The silence stretched between us for minutes and hours before finally Wufei breached it with a confession.

"Maxwell, I never would have thought that you'd be able to make art as fine as this. I didn't think you'd had the patience for this craft. I admit, I was very wrong in my assumption. I have been in turmoil recently, not even my meditation bringing me the peace I seek, but this, as soon I as stepped into this haven, reality retreated, my mind was placed at ease. You have a gift." He said it seriously, without malice, sarcasm, or arrogance. I knew then that I had received a high compliment and Wufei's respect. I also knew that I would be seeing a lot more of him in this refuge I'd created for myself.

I was not wrong. Wufei began to frequent my sanctuary, after a few visits, finally moving a comfortable chair into the room where he would often sit and read or just watch me work. Words were not spoken between us, the silence speaking loud enough. It was not long before Quatre drifted up to find us one day, wondering where we had been disappearing to so often. I'd merely smiled at his awe. He smiled and pointed to the pictures of himself, blushing at the one I'd drawn of him and Trowa locked in passionate embrace, their lips becoming one. He didn't ask about them and I did not explain. There was no need. Soon enough Quatre became another frequent visitor, another chair joining Wufei's. Quatre would sometimes bring his violin and play music for us as we did what made us forget the war that we were dying for.

Trowa was the next to make the journey to this secret we had kept between just us three, Wufei, Quatre, and I. He stumbled in one day after a long and tiring mission, probably looking for a quiet place to crash. He'd found more than that. He'd found a sliver of humanity in the raging world in which we barely survived within. Trowa never brought a chair, just a rather large throw pillow and his flute sometimes to duet with Quatre's violin. No one ever said anything and no one ever minded. Other objects began to collect withing the large interior of the attic, a chess set, decks of cards, a music player and various cds filled with endless genres of music to be played when we desired. Sometimes they'd join me in my creation, making many of their own. It didn't matter if they were good, just that they could find the release that they so needed.

The last to come into our serene world was Heero. He was always so busy being alone that'd it'd taken him quite some time to realize just how alone he really was. He ventured up to our space one night, late, when we'd all fallen asleep. I don't know what he did when he came in, what expressions he might have made, but I imagine they were one's of utter relief, for he never left again. Heero was the final of us to come into the peace that we'd made between ourselves, between missions and death, and the destruction that we wreaked upon the world outside this place. Heero never brought anything with him, at least not physically; he did bring the child I'd captured in his portrait though, which was much more than anything he could have offered in physicality.

In the morning when Heero came into my sanctuary I found him asleep next to me, his arms were tight about my waist, afraid to lose me, I assume. I'd merely smiled and let him stay because I'd never thought they'd understand, these comrades and brothers of mine. I never thought they'd want to be a part of this escape with me, but I'd been so very wrong. And even though we knew that there was still a war to win and deaths to shadow our souls; we knew also that we'd always have this sacred space for us to return to when the day was done and the battle had been won again. Even when the surroundings changed and we had to make a new haven every time, we never let it stop us. We'd rebuild it with every new destination. This tiny taste of peace we could share with one another, we could never quite forget.

We knew this was our place, our rapture and our sanity, where we could be the age we were and live together, even for just a short while, in peace and harmony. This was home, the only one any of us had ever really known.

Owari

Hope you liked. Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks.

Angel


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